


The Seasons, Part 3: Summer

by elizaye



Series: FWB!verse [24]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Bottom Castiel, Fluff, M/M, Morning Sex, Riding, Top Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-22
Updated: 2012-12-22
Packaged: 2017-11-22 00:26:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/603762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elizaye/pseuds/elizaye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean loves it when Cas is on break, because that means Dean gets to monopolize pretty much all of his time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Seasons, Part 3: Summer

Dean runs a knuckle down Cas’s cheek, observes the way the sunlight’s hitting Cas’s face, adding a soft glow to his skin.  He looks so relaxed in sleep, and Dean would say that this is the best look for him, except that Cas’s eyes aren’t visible when he’s asleep, and Dean decided a long time ago that those expressive eyes were his favorite part of Cas.

Distantly, he’s aware of his own arousal, growing as he tugs the covers off Cas to expose his body, still naked after last night’s activities.  But it doesn’t feel urgent, or pressing.  He’s been awake for maybe five minutes, and he’s perfectly content with just watching Cas sleep like this.  He smiles, unable to hold it back, when Cas shifts in his sleep, mumbling incoherently.

It’s lazy mornings like this that make Dean wonder whether summer might actually be his favorite time of the year, more so than winter.  Because over summer, Cas has a longer break, and Dean loves it when Cas is on break, because that means Dean gets to monopolize pretty much all of his time.

Last summer was great because Dean and Cas were… well, they’d been sleeping together for a while, but last summer was their first summer officially _together_ , and it was awesome.  But this summer’s turning out to be even better, because Dean finally coaxed Cas into getting rid of that crappy one-bedroom apartment on the other side of town and moving in with Dean.

Cas’s hand wraps around Dean’s, and Dean blinks, realizes that he’d zoned out.

“Hey,” Cas says, voice hoarse from sleep.

“Hey,” Dean answers, and smiles again.

“How long have you been awake?” Cas asks, yawning and shifting closer so that he can press his forehead to Dean’s.

“Not long.”

“Hmm,” Cas hums, slowly running a hand up and down Dean’s chest.  “You up for another round?”

Dean smirks.  “When am I not?”

Cas pushes Dean onto his back and crawls over him, straddling his abdomen.  He stretches his arms above his head, movements easy and unhurried, and Dean admires the bruises that pepper his torso.  But when Cas lets his hands fall back down, Dean notices the red marks on his wrists and frowns.

“Cas, you’re okay, right?” he asks, brow furrowed.

Cas looks down to see what Dean’s talking about.  “Of course,” he answers.

“I wasn’t too rough last night?” Dean presses, quickly flipping back to what he can remember.  He’d chosen to use the belt again—maybe it’s just because that was what he’d used the first time to tie Cas’s hands together, but there’s something about it that gets a better reaction outta Cas than ties or ropes.

Then Cas is leaning down, scraping his nails lightly down Dean’s torso.  His fingers tease at Dean’s nipples briefly, and fuck, that gets Dean hard and wanting in no time.  Cas’s fingers trail back up, coming to a stop at Dean’s shoulders.  “Not rough enough,” he purrs into Dean’s ear before taking Dean’s earlobe into his mouth and nibbling.

“Fuck— _Cas_ —” Dean grits out, thrusting his hips upward and groaning in frustration when Cas is too far up for Dean to get a decent amount of friction.

Cas just keeps tonguing at Dean’s ear, because he knows it’s a weakness, and fuck—if Cas isn’t gonna play fair, Dean won’t either.  He slides his fingers around to Cas’s opening, and one of his favorite things about mornings is that Cas is usually still loose, and it doesn’t take much to get him ready.  He slips two fingers in— _mm, Dean_ , Cas breathes right by his ear—and crooks them, jabbing at Cas’s prostate.  Cas cries out and goes rigid above him.

Dean only has a moment to feel smug though, because Cas lifts himself up onto his knees, Dean’s fingers slipping out as he moves, and then Cas is scooting backward, gripping the base of Dean’s cock, and lining himself up.

“Wait, Cas—” Dean starts to protest, but then Cas is sinking down, still slick but almost _too_ tight, and Dean breaks off into a loud groan as Cas takes him in.

But once seated, Cas stays still, tugs at Dean’s torso until he sits up.  Dean pulls Cas’s head down for a kiss, and god, he’s never gonna get sick of this, of being as close to Cas as he possibly can.  Cas grips Dean’s head with both hands, kisses slow and long and forceful.  Fuck, he _owns_ Dean’s mouth, and it feels _so good_.

Dean lets his hands slide down Cas’s back until they're resting on the swells of Cas’s ass.  He tugs Cas closer, rolls his hips upward at the same time, and Cas makes this high-pitched noise in his throat, pulling back slightly so that their lips are barely touching.  Dean builds up a rhythm, nice and slow, small rolling motions instead of their normal fucking, and then he grabs one of Cas’s wrists, brings it up to his mouth to press kisses to the red marks left over from last night.

“Dean,” Cas breathes, “I wanted it.”

“I’m sorry anyway,” Dean whispers, mouth dragging across Cas’s soft skin.

Cas is still for a moment, and Dean lifts his gaze to see that those wide, blue eyes look watery.

Dean opens his mouth to say something, but Cas suddenly shoves at his chest, and Dean, not expecting the push, falls back onto the bed.  “Cas—”

Before he can get any farther, Cas lifts himself up and fucks back down hard, and Dean’s thoughts go flying out the window.  Cas sets a brutal pace, completely opposite of what they were just doing, and some part of Dean thinks he really should be concerned, but fuck, fuck, fuck, shit, _fuck_ , Cas is _not_ _human_.

Cas laughs breathlessly but doesn’t slow his pace, and Dean realizes that those last thoughts were actually coming out of his mouth.

Well, if Cas wants hot and dirty, Dean can roll with it.

“C’mon, Cas.  That all you got?” he grits out, jabbing his hips upward once, and the extra pressure to Cas’s prostate screws up his rhythm momentarily.

“Nnngh, Dean,” Cas groans, and he’s never been much of a talker during sex, but Dean can make up for that.

Dean gives Cas a slap on the thigh.  “Faster.”

Cas obeys, bounces up and down on Dean’s cock faster and harder, and Dean lets his head drop back for a moment, because holy _fuck_ , he’s in heaven.  When Cas starts to slow his pace, Dean lifts his head again, fixes Cas with a hard stare.

“Don’t you slow down, Cas,” he says.  “Fuck yourself nice and good on my cock— _fuck_ , yeah.”

He wraps a hand around Cas’s dick, smearing precome along the shaft, and Cas throws his head back, keening.  So responsive, always so responsive.

“C’mon, Cas,” Dean urges, and he’s in that place he gets to sometimes where he’s got almost no control over the words that are coming out of his mouth.  “Harder—wanna come?  Wanna paint me up, Cas?  I’ll look so good covered in your come—” Cas whimpers at the mental image, and Dean grins as he continues, “—oh, yeah.  C’mon, Cas, I want you to.  Want you to come on my cock.”

Cas’s thighs are trembling with the effort of maintaining his pace, and Dean takes pity—oh, who is he kidding, he’s so fucking close he can hardly even hold back anymore—by planting his feet on the mattress and thrusting up to meet Cas when he drops down again.  Dean presses his thumbnail against the slit at the head of Cas’s dick at the same time, and this proves to be too much stimulation for Cas, who comes with a cry, shooting all over Dean’s torso.

Above him, Cas goes limp, breathing hard, and Dean twists to the side, pinning Cas to the bed under him.  Cas responds by putting his arms around Dean’s back and bringing his legs up to wrap them around Dean’s waist as Dean starts thrusting, just looking for release now.

Cas grunts in rhythm with Dean’s thrusts and brings one of his hands upward, uses it to pet the back of Dean’s neck, scratching at the soft hairs at his hairline, and that spot was never all that sensitive to Dean, but it sure as hell is sensitive right now, and he groans when Cas’s nails scrape over it a little harder.  Cas lifts his head and presses kisses to Dean’s jaw, cheek, nose, using the hand on Dean’s neck to move Dean’s head where he wants it.

Dean realizes that he’s slowed the motion of his hips, his strokes long and slow and deep, and god, he’s so close.  Then Cas kisses Dean’s lips, surprisingly chaste, and whispers against them, “I love you.”

And Dean chokes on a groan, shoves his hips forward one last time and comes and comes and _comes_.

“Oh, fuck,” someone says after a few moments, in a voice so hoarse that it takes Dean a second to recognize it as his own.

Cas’s hand continues stroking through his hair, and Dean forces his limbs to move so that he’s not completely crushing Cas anymore.  He ends up lying on his side, right in the middle of a patch of sun—warm and completely comfortable.

Cas hums softly and shifts onto his side, watching as Dean catches his breath.  He lifts his left hand, rests it on Dean’s cheek the way he did after their first time together as a couple, over a year ago.  His thumb brushes along Dean’s cheekbone, a feather-soft touch, and Dean opens his eyes to see Cas’s small smile.  And he wants to smile back, but he finds that he can’t, because… because there’s something missing.

“Cas…” he murmurs, and his voice shakes, inexplicably.

“Dean,” Cas answers, steady.  “What’s wrong?”

Dean shakes his head, a small motion, because he doesn’t know.  Cas’s brow creases with concern, and Dean lets his gaze shift between Cas’s eyes, looking for—

“Oh,” he breathes, because he _does_ know.  He knows exactly what’s wrong with this picture.

“Dean?”

He remembers the look Cas had given him that night, remembers how fond and affectionate it had been, and most of all he remembers that it had been too much for him, so much that he’d had to shy away.  But looking at Cas’s face now, Dean sees that the emotions are all still there, but the intensity, the _depth_ , is gone.  And he realizes in this moment that he wants it back, all of it.  He wants to see how Cas feels about him, wants it so badly that he aches.

“Dean,” Cas says, frowning, and he’s starting to lift his hand away, but Dean catches it and presses it back against his cheek, and the gesture is so familiar that he can’t hold back a small smile.

“I love you.”

Cas blinks, face blank.

“I love you,” Dean repeats, because now that it’s been said, he doesn’t know why he took so long to finally say it.

It seems like the words register with Cas all at once.  His face lights up, and his mouth stretches into one of those wide smiles, the nose-crinkling ones that are too fucking adorable.  And it hits Dean that he could have been saying this for the whole year that they were together, that he has no freaking excuse good enough for putting it off this long.

“I love you, too,” Cas answers, and _there_.  There it is, the same expression Cas had shown Dean that night, and it’s _perfect_.  Dean grins so wide that he must look like a crazy person, but he can’t stop, and it doesn’t matter because Cas is smiling right back, and Cas… Cas _loves him_.

Dean’s known this for a long time now, has known about Cas’s emotions, but he’s so friggin’ stupid that it took him until _now_ to really understand, to actually _get it_.

“I’m so sorry,” he says, because he’s kept Cas waiting way longer than he deserves.

But Cas is shaking his head, leaning in to peck Dean’s lips.  “No,” he says, voice only just louder than a whisper, “no, don’t—”

“‘m sorry I kept you—” Cas interrupts Dean with another kiss, but Dean just continues when Cas pulls away, “—waiting so long.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Cas insists.

Dean opens his mouth to repeat his apology, but Cas kisses him again, and this time it’s deep—tongues tangling together, teeth clashing—and the only thing Dean has left to say when they break apart is—“I love you.”  Another kiss.  “God, Cas, I—”

“I know,” Cas says, soft and pleased.

“I shouldn’t have kept you waiting,” Dean says.  “I should’ve said it months ago.  I’ve felt like this for so long, and I didn’t…” he shakes his head.  “I don’t think I even _knew_.”

“Dean, it’s fine,” Cas says, and one of the best things about Cas is that Dean knows he wouldn’t lie about this.  “We’re here.  Together.  And that’s all that matters.”

“Yeah.  Yeah, you’re right,” Dean concedes.

Cas just keeps smiling, radiant and happy, and Dean vows to himself that he will do his best to put that smile on Cas’s face as often as he can, because it might just be one of the best things he’s ever seen.

* * *

The first time Dean said those three words, Castiel couldn’t believe it.  It had to have been a fluke.  Maybe he was dreaming.  It wouldn’t be the first time Castiel had dreamed it up.  But Dean repeated it, and it had looked like a revelation to him, and fuck, it was _real_.

Now he pads downstairs and into the kitchen, where Dean’s making breakfast—it’s almost noon, so they should probably call it brunch instead, but it’s summer, which means the time of day is irrelevant.

Castiel steps up to Dean when he’s sure that Dean won’t be moving anytime soon and puts his arms around his waist, leans in close to press his lips to the back of Dean’s neck.

“I love you,” he whispers against Dean’s hairline, because it’s safe to say these words as often as he wants now, and he doesn’t think he’ll ever get sick of hearing them from Dean.

“Love you too,” Dean responds, low and fervent, and warmth swells in Castiel’s chest until he thinks he’s about to burst.

It’s a perfect day.

**Author's Note:**

> I've finally caught up with my posting here, so the updates will come a little less frequently from now on.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!


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